(I work at a toy store. During the Christmas season, we take donations to ‘Toys for Tots,’ a program that helps kids in need get toys they otherwise couldn’t afford. A boy who has just turned 10 comes in with birthday money and buys some Pokémon toys. This happens at the end.)

Me: “Okay, hon. Your total is [total]. Would you like to donate to ‘Toys for Tots’ today?”

Boy: “Yes. I want to donate.”

(I assume he wants to donate a dollar or so, as most people do.)

Me: “Okay. How much would you like to donate?”

Boy: “$50.”

Me: “Are you sure? That’s a pretty big donation!”

Boy: *nods*

Me: “Okay. Thank you so much!”

(At this point a customer behind me speaks up.)

Customer: “He can’t give you that much! You’re just keeping it for yourself anyway. And besides, those people are just lazy! If they actually worked instead of mooching off the government then maybe their parents could get them s***!”

(My jaw drops. I am about to tell the customer off, when the boy steps in.)

Boy: “Don’t talk like that! Besides, I saved up this money for my birthday, and I can pick how I want to spend it! And they aren’t lazy. Sometimes people just need help. I hope if you needed help, someone would help you. Because that’s what God says to do!”

(The customer shut up after that. I was really proud of that little boy. He did donate the $50, an amount most adults won’t even pay!)

This story is part of our Customers Who Dislike Charity roundup!

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(After a weekend vacation camping with my husband, I wake up with a bad allergic reaction that swells me up and covers me with hives. It’s so bad that my tongue has even swollen up and my eyes are squinted nearly shut. We’re sitting at the hospital waiting room and waiting to be called when a lady comes in and notices me.)

Woman: “Oh, my God! What happened to you? Did you get hit by bees?”

Husband: “We went camping this weekend, so we think something in the woods got on her clothes and gave her a bad allergic reaction.”

Woman: “And you’re all covered with bumps, too. Oh, my God! Is she mute, too?”

Husband: “No, she can talk, but her throat is hurting her and her tongue is swollen.”

(I even open my mouth to show her.)

Woman: *freaked out* “Oh, my God! She looks like a raspberry. Why haven’t you taken her to the doctor before now? She looks horrible!”

Husband: “Um…” *looks around the emergency room* “Well, it just happened this morning when she woke up. If it gets too severe, I’m sure the nurses will come out and give her an epi-shot or something.”

Woman: “I hope they do. I can’t imagine going anywhere outside looking that bloated and blotchy. Don’t worry, honey; I’m sure you don’t look that bad when you look normal!”

(As she says this, the woman pats my knee cautiously, like I’m going to give her some infection.)

Woman: “Just… oh, my God!”

This story is part of our S’Mores Day roundup!

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(I work at a golf course that is situated in a residential area. I am talking to a friend of mine who owns a home on the course when a ball lands in his backyard.)

Golfer: “Move!” *hops the fence*

Friend: “Hey! This is private property; get out of here!”

Golfer: “No, it isn’t; I paid good money to play on this course and I am going to play through.”

Me: “Actually, sir, it is private property.”

Golfer: *not listening* “Why the h*** do you put such stupid obstacles in the way? What kind of course has fences so close to the green?”

Friend: “It isn’t an obstacle! It’s my fence, and you are in my backyard. Now beat it before I call the police.”

Golfer: “Shut the f*** up; you’re throwing me off my game.” *turns to me* “Shouldn’t you escort him off the course? He isn’t showing any etiquette.”

(My friend gets irritated and goes into his house.)

Me: “He doesn’t have to show any etiquette; he owns the property. You are the one I will be escor—”

Golfer: “No, he doesn’t! The course owns all of this; how stupid are you?”

(My friend comes back with a bucket of golf balls and dumps them where the golfer’s ball has landed.)

Golfer: “What the f*** are you doing?! I’ll never find my ball!”

Friend: “Good.”

Golfer: “I paid good money for that ball, and you’re stealing it! I am calling the police!”

Me: “It landed in someone’s yard. It is clearly stated in the rule book that a residential area is out of bounds, so he can do whatever he wants with it.”

Golfer: “Shut up! What do you know? You’re just some kid!”

Me: “Sir, please come with me. You are not welcome here anymore.”

Golfer: “No! I can do what I want! I paid good money to—”

Friend: “I spend all day cleaning up after a**holes like you that think they can do whatever they want. They rammed their carts into my fence thinking it was a personal cart stopper, and I had to finally shell out $1,500 to buy a new one because it eventually fell down completely.”

Golfer: “I didn’t—”

Friend: “People like you have stolen my stuff and left their trash in my yard, even though there is a bin right there next to the tee-box. They have killed my dog, and one of you pricks had the audacity to walk into my house and use my bathroom without even so much as asking.”

Golfer: *stuttering* “But the course owns it; I’m allowed to—”

Friend: “No, you’re not. My property line extends another twenty feet past the fence line; you are trespassing. I own this house, this yard, and everything in it.”

(My friend picks him up and tosses him over the fence.)

Golfer: “That’s assault! I am calling the police on you! I paid good money!”

Friend: “I don’t give a d*** how much you paid; this is private property and according to the state penal code, I can remove you just like I did.”

Golfer: “I’ll sue! I paid good money!”

Friend: “Go ahead; I’ll be your lawyer.”

(One of the owners showed up and escorted the golfer off the golf course. He was banned from playing there again. My friend now plays free for his trouble.)

This story is part of our Golf roundup!

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(At our theater, matinee ends at 6:00 pm, and 3D movies cost $2.50 more than regular ones. It’s about 5:50 pm and I’m selling tickets for a 6:00 pm showing.)

Customer: “Well, I’d like two for The Avengers.”

Me: “All right, the 6:00 pm is in 3D; is that okay?”

Customer: “Yes, that’s why we’re watching the 6:00 pm one!”

Me: “Fantastic. Any student or military IDs for a discount today?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Well, for two tickets that’s $19.”

Customer: “FOR TWO TICKETS? That’s ridiculous! I thought this place was supposed to be cheap; what am I even paying for?”

(I’ve zoned out, and I’ve just started to grab his glasses when his wife cuts in.)

Customer’s Wife: *over her still-ranting husband* “Ignore him. He’s had a bad day. Here’s a twenty.”

(I finish their transaction and someone walks up to them and greets the man.)

Other Customer: “Oh, hey, Pastor!”

This story is part of our 3D Movies roundup!

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(My husband and I have just finished looking over the menu. I decide I want my usual steak order if available.)

Me: “Is there prime rib available?”

Waitress: “Yes there is; eight or ten ounce?”

Me: “Eight ounce, please.”

(The server walks away without asking how I would like my steak cooked. She returns 10 minutes later.)

Waitress: “I’m sorry. How would like your ribeye steak cooked?”

Me: “I ordered prime rib. Medium rare, please.”

Waitress: “Oh yes, prime rib! Of course.”

(Our food comes about 20 minutes later.)

Waitress: “Here is your ribeye steak.”

Me: “I ordered prime rib.”

Waitress: “You did? Oh, okay.”

(The waitress takes the plate back. 10 minutes later, the manager arrives with the same steak.)

Manager: “Hi, what was wrong with your ribeye steak?”

Me: “I ordered prime rib.”

Manager: “Oh, okay. Let me change that for you.”

(Despite the manager intervening, my steak does not come out for another 30 minutes.)

Waitress: “I am so sorry; I have no idea how I messed that up! Here’s the check!”

(Incredibly, the waitress has still put “ribeye” on the check.)

Husband: “They really wanted you to get the ribeye!”

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